An Appropriate Goodbye
by His WHOREcrux
Summary: WARNING: DH SPOILERS. [Although why anyone who hasn't finished it is reading the fanfiction is beyond me.] This is a tribute to a character we all knew and loved, and the half that was left behind. Oh, and an odd pairing too.


The hint of his last laugh was still written across his face.  
George took that as a sign, took it to be the message he had been looking for.  
Fred would have wanted him to carry on their dream, Fred would have wanted him to carry on being alive- Fred wouldn't have wanted this.

Fred and George had never been keen on silent goodbyes- they were always looking for a gimmick to engrave their names into the minds of all onlookers.

But somehow, despite the melancholy atmosphere, George knew that nobody could ever forget his twin.  
How could they, when George was left as a reminder?

The sombre crowd encircling Fred Weasley's grave made George incredibly uncomfortable- black didn't suit him, and he felt far too distant from all of the maudlin well-wishers. His mother cried hysterically and his brother Percy did the same- maybe because Fred had been the first to accept him back after the betrayal, maybe just because he was FRED.  
And Fred was wonderful, and Fred was gone.

Sometimes it didn't feel like they'd accepted Fred was gone. Like when George would enter the room, and Ron would quickly turn to ask Hermione a question about their upcoming nuptials to blot out the memories, or when Molly would lay out an extra place for dinner and break down hysterically upon realising it.  
Or when Percy would stare at George as if he had seen a ghost, until noticing the missing ear and feeling that awful feeling of resentment.  
You're not Fred, you're not Fred.

George felt like a constant reminder of his family's loss sometimes, and his own grief was pushed aside to try to rectify the issue. But it stayed there, a pang that hit his heart every time he turned to tell a joke that he'd heard, or wanted to discuss new ideas for the joke shop. His laughter would quickly dry up and it was an effort to hold on to his carefree grin.  
He'd promised Fred that the laughter would live on.

He gritted his teeth at the graveside, willing himself not to cry, willing himself not to scream at the miserable loved ones. It wasn't what Fred would have wanted- he'd have hated the sad speeches. He'd probably have been trying to provide some comic relief and he wouldn't have let it alone until there were smiles all round. Fingering the bag in his pocket, George considered that.  
Maybe that was George's job now.

He cleared his throat, aware that he was expected to make a speech. He tried not to think too hard about what he could say- because really, what could he say? He could plan some tear-jerking eulogy- sure, George Weasley was intelligent enough to be able to do so…  
But that wouldn't be a testament to Fred. And that wasn't keeping his promise.

"If Fred were here, he'd be in that audience right now, waiting for a cue to set off the dungbombs."

Good. Keep going. Nice little introduction, not too heavy.  
But Molly's eyes had filled up again.

"Actually, he is here. He's here in spirit, and he's probably having a pretty crappy time. Wondering when we're actually gonna liven up the party a bit- frankly, you lot make Umbridge look like a party animal. But Fred- he's also here in me, and I know you're all trying your hardest not to notice. But it's impossible not to really Mum, so don't be so daft, woman!  
Me and Fred, we weren't just brothers. We were best mates too, and I don't feel complete without him. I feel like a half, and actually, I'm not even that. I'm missing an ear."  
Ginny smiled encouragingly, Percy had succumbed to a fresh bout of sobbing.

"I suppose if Fred could hear me I'd only want to ask a couple of things. Like where he put the last bunch of receipts because I kind of need them to pay my bills. Get back to me on that, will you mate?"

Luna laughed, thank Merlin. Yet other people were looking on in pity- that wasn't a good sign.  
"We always said we wanted to die in a way that was hilariously tragic. Like a freak accident with one of our pranks, so everyone at the funeral couldn't help but laugh at the ridiculous circumstances. I assumed we'd go together."

He sighed, ready to leave- his heart filled with a sudden urge to run as fast as he possibly could away from the church. He caught Luna's eyes, watching him calmly in her pink sundress. She seemed to cock her head at him, seemed to be telling him to go on.  
Either that or she was trying to get the nargles out of her hair.

"Of course, I'd tell him I'll miss him- I do miss him. But he knows that.

And I keep trying to see Fred when I look in the mirror, but I only see George. That's pretty hard to smile at, but I'm trying anyway. I promised Fred I'd keep his laughter alive- and I will."

He winked at Luna, tossing the bag from his pocket into the air.  
"Goodbye Fred!" 

And suddenly the graveyard was engulfed by Peruvian Instant Darkness Powder.  
A few people screamed, a few began to cough uncontrollably. They looked around in fascination as it cleared, finding their hair had turned various shades of the rainbow. Pinks and purples and yellows and greens contrasted with the darkness of their clothes, and Ron began to laugh through his tears.  
Hermione soon joined him, looking a little shocked that she should be disregarding the sad occasion in such a way. Ginny's giggles caused many to stare- her hair was the same shade of blue as her eyes.  
And the muffled chuckles turned into full-scale hilarity as Draco Malfoy was heard to exclaim  
"Bloody hell, I look like a Weasley!"  
Needless to say, his hair was a funny shade of tangerine.

People began to relax, and indulge in their first jokes since the war had ended. Guffaws were traded and finally, Fred's life was being honoured in a way he would have approved of.

Nobody even noticed George Weasley flying away on a broomstick, whooping, cheering and SMILING.  
Luna Lovegood sat behind him, looking dreamier and happier than anybody had ever seen her. George chuckled and held her hands under his own, shouting his goodbyes to his twin.

Maybe it was more than almost like having a friend.

And you never know, if the crowd had listened, they may have heard another laugh join George's- an almost identical chuckle that seemed to echo for years afterwards.

The laughter lived on.


End file.
